


A Mother's Touch

by Bjurnberg



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Crying, Gabriel Agreste has no rights, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Teasing, he's baby yer honor, he's not in this story but it stands, hugs and emotions, it's not romantic but there's potential, marichat lite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-05
Updated: 2021-03-05
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:00:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29850171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bjurnberg/pseuds/Bjurnberg
Summary: Chat Noir is caught crying. When Marinette hugs him tight and asks what’s wrong, she’d never thought his answer would be “I miss my mom.”
Comments: 6
Kudos: 105





	A Mother's Touch

Marinette was very careful not to spill her mug of tea as she opened the trapdoor onto the rooftop balcony, dragging her blanket out and tossing it in the patio chair.

She’d had a wonderful day with her parents. It was Mother’s Day. She and Papa had surprised Mom with homemade gifts, wildflowers they picked, and her favorite meals. Simple things, but the love seeped into the walls of the bakery and home as they shared time and laughter.

Now the day was over, her parents had gone to bed, and Marinette wanted to enjoy this feeling of peace a little longer as she searched for stars. It had been a warm day, so the blanket was really only there to ward off the evening breeze, but being wrapped up tight with a hot mug in hand was her favorite way to ignore the world.

There were no worries of homework or commissions or school drama when she was a blanket burrito.

The tea was long gone and the mug set on the ledge beside her when she heard it. A heavy tump tump tump and sharp echoing clink that had her jumping up and looking around wildly to find the source. She knew that sound. It was Chat Noir’s boots running on the rooftops and his staff hitting pavement to pole vault over a wide street.

That sound usually meant danger was nearby.

She looked up just as he flew over her balcony.

“Chat!!” she shouted to grab his attention, needing to know where the akuma was so she could follow once he was out of sight.

His head whipped around at the call, and time took a snap-shot freeze frame that struck Marinette in the heart like an ice pick.

His face was streaked with tears and snot, cheeks blotchy pink, eyes widening with surprise but full of pain.

She’d seen Chat cry before; after stressful akumas usually, or if he was looking at cute animal videos. But this was something different. This wasn’t fear or delight - it was full body distress.

The moment ended as he crashed into the roof of her school across the street.

She winced as he tumbled a little too far, just barely catching himself before falling off the other side into the courtyard below.

“Are you alright?” she called over, not too loud - she didn’t want to wake her parents, after all, and she knew Chat Noir had enhanced hearing.

“A-Okay!” he shouted back. His voice was gruff and strained. He’d taken much worse falls than that without batting an eye; he must have been crying for a while.

There was some motion that suggested he was rubbing at his face, accompanied by quick coughs and sniffs, before he took another running leap to land on top of the chimney behind her chair.

“Hello Marinette! What’s got the princess in her tower this beautiful evening?”

Did he practice that smile in a mirror or something? It looked far too on-the-mark. A perfect smile to hide any real emotion. If his face weren’t still pink and eyes puffy she could have been fooled.

She frowned at him and he looked away, body tensing up a bit. So there isn’t an akuma which means this is personal.

“What’s wrong Chat?” she asked quietly.

“Nothings wrong,” he answered a little too quickly. Jumping down to her balcony, he leaned against the railing with forced nonchalance. “Just enjoying a moonlit stroll in the fine spring air.”

She sighed. There wasn’t much she could do when he got like this; pretending things were fine when the opposite was obvious. Chat Noir was top of his class when it came to burying emotion, and she knew he wouldn’t answer personal questions - she was the one who kept telling him not to, after all.

A shiver hit her. Now that the panic of a possible akuma had left, the absence of the blanket made itself known. Chat latched onto the distraction right away.

“Bit nippy isn’t it? Let’s get that blanket on you.” With a couple long strides he was beside her, reaching past to lift the blanket over her shoulders and holding it in place for her to grab.

She did, and he was about to take a step back when she threw her arms, and the blanket, around his shoulders too. He twitched in surprise, but quickly relaxed into the hug, holding her waist under the comforter and sharing warmth.

This was only the second time he’d shown up on her balcony with nothing to fight but his own heart. It was so strange for Marinette to see Chat this way when she was used to witty comments and refocusing his attention on the battle.

“I know you can’t say anything that will give away your identity,” she whispered into his shoulder. He tensed and she continued before he could pull away, “But if you want to talk I’ll listen.”

Chat’s shoulders jumped and a huff of air ruffled Marinette’s hair. He started shaking, and it wasn’t until a couple drops hit her shoulder that she learned he was crying again. She held him closer.

“I miss my mom!” he sobbed.

The words hit her like a brick wall.

Marinette had no clue Chat’s mom was gone. Dead? Out of town? In the hospital? There’s no way she could ask. He’d mentioned his father casually a couple times, just as she’d mentioned her parents, but they avoided discussing civilian life so thoroughly she’d never thought about the absence of a mother in their talks.

But now that it had been brought up... her mind raced to find a single mention of Chat’s mom and couldn’t find one.

And it was Mother’s Day.

“Oh Chat. I’m so sorry.”

He sniffled a little, “It’s the first year I haven’t got to spend the holiday with her.”

“Hey,” she took half a step back to look him in the eye. He immediately dropped his arms and stepped back too; Marinette didn’t like that, so she kept her hands on his shoulders, offering a small smile and asked, “If she were here today, what would you have done?”

Chat’s eyebrows knit together and his head tilted in question. She decided to offer an example.

“Like, my family doesn’t have any traditions, we just kinda wing it depending on how busy the bakery is, but my friends have traditions. Alya said her family goes on a hike every year, and Nino’s mom always wants dinner and a show.”

“Oh, uhh,” he looked down and chewed on his lip.

“You don't have to say, if I'm pushing.”

“No, I want to, I’m just trying to figure out how to say it.” He hummed a little as she waited, knowing he would be careful with his words. As much as Chat Noir loved to talk, he followed the rules.

“Ah! Yes,” his face relaxed and she saw the first real smile of the night. It was small, and a little melancholy, but genuine. It soothed her heart to see it. “We would watch movies together.”

“Like at the theater, or at home?”

“At home,” he nodded at his memory. “She was always so busy, she said it was her one day to do nothing but laze about.”

Marinette smiled wide to encourage him. “Which genre was her favorite?”

“Film Noir.”

“Noir? Is that how you chose your name?”

“Hmm, maybe subconsciously? I dunno. But mother liked them best for the story. She could wax poetic about the lighting angles and director’s choices and cinematography, but the story telling was what drew her in. No matter how many times she watched her favorites they would always make her cry and gasp in the same places.” He let out a heavy sigh and his whole body relaxed. “The predictability was soothing. I’d be sitting on the floor in front of the couch between her feet. She would play with my hair during the film and I knew exactly when to pass her a tissue.”

An idea sprang into Marinette’s head.

“Hey Chat?”

“Hmm?”

“Stay right here okay?”

He met her eyes with curiosity, but nodded. She whipped the blanket off her shoulders around onto his and tucked the edges under his chin. He held it close with a grin, and watched her climb through the trapdoor into her room.

It only took a couple minutes to grab what she wanted. First, whispering to Tikki that everything was fine and she could go back to sleep. Second, throwing on a sweatshirt and tucking a couple pillows under her arm. Third, a pack of tissues for her pocket. Then her purse caught her eye, hanging off the desk chair. It held the single passion fruit macaron she’d made that morning for Adrien. She could make a replacement tomorrow after school, right? Surely skipping one day of searching for the perfect opportunity would be fine. It was just one day. But what if tomorrow was the perfect -?

No. Chat Noir needed it more right now. She grabbed that too.

Opening the door again, she smiled to see him standing close to give her a hand up. Instead of taking the offered hand, she placed the single-wrapped macaron in it and shoved the pillows out before clambering up through the hole herself.

Chat’s cat ears perked up when he opened the package and smelled the cookie. Biting off half he seemed to melt, and chewed slowly to savor it.

“How did you know passion fruit is my favorite?” he mumbled while eating the rest.

“Oh! I didn’t.” She tried to hide her pink cheeks by leaning down to arrange the pillows. “It’s just what I had... you know, on hand.” Before he could ask why she would have one single macaron she waved her arms at the set-up, “Ta-da!”

Chat raised one eyebrow. It wasn’t fancy, just a pillow on the ground and one on her patio chair.

“I thought we could -” it suddenly hit her how awkward this was. And probably invasive. “Uhh, I mean, only if you want to, of course, but, since you can't share details about your civilian life,” Why was she blushing oh no, “I’m not familiar with a lot of Film Noir so I thought you could tell me the plot of your favorite... while I... play... with your hair?”

Had she been in more embarrassing situations than asking to pet Chat Noir on her balcony at night? Yes. Could she remember any right now? No.

He stared at her dumbstruck with his mouth open.

“Sorry!” She flapped her arms around trying to dispel the mood. “I’m sorry that was strange and probably not what you need right now and I just thought that since your mom couldn’t be with you today I could - not that anyone could ever replace her!! But-”

“Marinette.”

She shut up. The way he said her name was so sweet, so full of care... just the way she wanted to hear it from another blond boy. Looking up she saw he’d stepped close, dropping the blanket as he placed his hands on her shoulders.

His eyes were misty and his smile wobbled when he said, “That sounds perfect.”

“Oh,” she whispered, wide eyed. “Okay.”

His eyes were so green.

She shook herself. “Okay!” She repeated and gave him a big grin, then flopped backward into the chair and tapped the pillow on the ground with her foot.

He chuckled and picked up the blanket to drag over. She only saw the twinkle in his eye two seconds before he threw the whole thing in her face.

“Hey!!” She laughed and rearranged it so a corner curled over her shoulders, but most pooled down past her legs onto the ground, where Chat sat on the pillow and draped it in his lap. He tilted his head backward onto her thighs and grinned a Cheshire Cat grin.

“Have you always wanted a lap cat, Princess?”

She shoved the pocket package of tissue in his face as a response, though she couldn’t help a small laugh, “clean up your face, Kitty, you look like a drowned rat.”

He pouted, but spent a minute wiping away the tear tracks and blowing his nose. Next she handed him a half full water bottle she’d forgotten by the chair yesterday, and finally asked, “So what story are you gonna tell me tonight?”

His voice sounded a lot closer to normal when he asked, “Have you seen Solitude?”

“Oh, um, not really,” she started to pull his hair back away from his face and wow how was it this soft?! “I started to, with... a friend, once, but we got interrupted. The main character is a blonde woman, right?”

“Yeah,” his voice was wistful and he started setting the scene. He described the time frame the movie was set in, and the basic premise. When he got excited about a part he would talk with his hands flying around, miming one character’s position in relation to another. Sometimes he’d interrupt himself with “Oh! I forgot to mention this character, she’s really important!” and backtrack to explain someone new and how their tale intertwined with the others.

His storytelling was not cohesive, and Marinette was certain he kept missing vital plot points because she had no clue what was going on, but he was happy. He was smiling again. And his hair was really soft. She kept running her fingers through it, tugging little bits in different directions, trying to make lines and parts stick in new ways. He would lean into her touch sometimes, and let out a hum before continuing the tale.

By the end of the story (damsel no longer in distress and spy thwarted, but with the possibility of return) he was hugging one of her calves, a cheek resting on her knee, and she was tracing the edges of his human ear and tucking hair back into place.

“Marinette?”

“Hmm?”

“Thank you for being here.”

She tugged gently on his earlobe and giggled quietly, “I live here, silly.”

He grabbed her hand and threaded his fingers through hers to hold on top of his shoulder. His cheek was still pressed against her knee and she couldn’t see his face, but he was serious when he said, “I was going to run all night.”

She went still, uncertain where he going with this.

“I couldn’t stay home. I was afraid an akuma would come for me, so I decided I would just run all night and only sleep when I was too exhausted to dream. But I ran into you, and I can’t thank you enough for helping me. You’re incredible.”

It was Marinette’s turn to go misty eyed. Instead of saying something she leaned forward and wrapped her free arm around his chest, resting her cheek on the top of his head.

After a moment she was able to speak.

“Anytime,” she said quietly. “Come back anytime. I’m here if you want to talk.”

“Well,” his hand slipped out of hers and it felt too cold. She saw him reach into his pocket and pull out a bit of crinkled plastic. He leaned forward a little and she sat up just enough for him to turn and show her a pranksters smile.

“You know what they say about feeding stray cats,” and he flicked the empty macaron wrapper just right to bounce off her nose.

They giggled together and stood. He helped her drop the pillows and blanket down the trapdoor onto the bed before grabbing her hand to place a light kiss on her knuckles.

“See you around, Princess.”

She smiled up at him and squeezed his hand once before letting go.

“Good night, Chat Noir.”

He launched himself off her balcony and bounded away across the Paris rooftops.

They both slept well that night.


End file.
